Comme les Étoiles dans le Ciel
by Kitten Kisses
Summary: 365 drabbles in 365 days! May contain spoilers! 028: "Another World". André, Oscar. Might things have been different in another world?
1. 001: Distance

**Comme les Étoiles dans le Ciel**  
**By: Manna**

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…_**xOx…**_

**001: "Distance"**

She's sleeping on the couch, the little one in her foyer.

He came to ask her if she wanted to have a fencing match, but he finds her in repose and he's loathe to disturb her when she looks so peaceful.

Instead, he watches as she lets out each breath, as she shifts slightly in her sleep, as she curls her legs up under her and lets out a whispering sigh.

He smiles at the sight, but there's something missing, something big. He tells himself that it's not important.

He drapes a blanket over her and she seems to settle as her fingertips feel the soft material and grasp at it. Warmth, she likes it even though she wants people think she is as frigid as the arctic wind. The skin of her face is warm too; he's touching her and she doesn't even notice.

Bending over slightly, he touches his nose to hers, feels her breath fan across his face. He's so close, so very close. Only a fraction of an inch separates their lips. His are trembling, no, maybe his hands are trembling, no, _he_ is trembling.

Tears work their way down his face, tears born of his love for her, maybe the first few. And suddenly, it's important, everything is so damn important. And the distance between them…is far too much. But he can't close that gap, that fraction of an inch.

So he pulls away, and he leaves her there to sleep on the couch, the little one in her foyer.

* * *

…_**oXo…**_

**Author Notes:**

"As the Stars in the Sky" is the translation for the title. 365 drabbles in 365 days, starting…well, today! That is my goal for 2009.

Check out my bio for a link to my journal with more information.

Thanks for reading! Feedback is appreciated!


	2. 002: Talk Too Much

**Comme les Étoiles dans le Ciel**  
**By: Manna

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**

…_**xOx…**_

**002: "Talk Too Much"**

They talk, they always do. There isn't a person at the de Jarjayes mansion that doesn't chatter, that doesn't gossip. Oscar, as the oddest inhabitant of the home, is usually the subject of discussion, but for the first time in her life, she comes across the maids talking about someone else.

She's twenty years old, strong-spirited and a bit icy; her temper's calm, and it's a good thing, too, because they're talking about André. She doesn't know why, but it sets her blood to boiling to hear people talking about him. It upsets her even more when she realizes they're not even saying anything bad.

Of course, she doesn't show it. She can't show it.

"Oh," the little brunette squeals, her hand over her heart. "He's just _so_ handsome, don't you think?"

And the chorus of agreement that greets the blonde officer's ears makes her want to go straight to the stables; she wants to saddle her horse and ride and ride and ride. She doesn't know why it bothers her; in fact, she should be happy for her friend, should encourage him and even tell him that he has some women that adore him.

But she doesn't want to. She's being selfish, but she can't help how she feels. He's always been there for her, with her. He's hers, her friend, her…

And if he gets married, he'll leave her. She'll be fine without him because she can live the rest of her life alone. She's strong enough to do so.

But she doesn't want to.

"Here he comes, here he comes!" one of them whispers excitedly, and the giggling hurts Oscar's ears. She's got to get out of there. She runs into him—quite literally—at the door and he smiles at her. She understands what the maids are talking about; André is a handsome man. But she doesn't want to talk about it, deal with it, and without a word, without even acknowledging his presence, she makes her way to the stables.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

Just something fun. A short piece about jealous Oscar for Loulou and Zainab, since I know you girls wanted to see it. Thanks for reading! Feedback is much appreciated!


	3. 003: The Promise

**Comme les Étoiles dans le Ciel  
By: Manna

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**

**…_xOx…_**

**003: "The Promise"**

She was ten years old, and she already knew that she would never marry.

"It's not a bad thing, really," she told André as they sat underneath one of the trees by the river. Even though she didn't want to admit it, she said, "I'm a girl, and as such, I can't marry another girl. And being raised as a man means I can't marry a man, either. It's not that complicated. It won't be that bad."

"What won't?" he wanted to know as he twisted a stem between his thumb and forefinger.

"Being alone," she replied, her tone matter-of-fact, her eyes serious. The idea didn't seem to affect her at all.

But he knew better. Oscar _hated_ being alone; she hated it more than anything.

She liked to be by herself, of course, but there would always be a big difference between the two. Between being by herself, knowing that someone was nearby, and being completely and utterly alone, knowing that nobody else was there.

But he wouldn't let that happen. Oscar was his friend. He would never let her face her worst fear as long as he could help it, as long as he had control over it.

"Oscar," he said, and she turned to look at him, blinking those baby blues curiously. "If you don't marry, then neither will I, I promise."

"Don't be ridiculous," she muttered, but her eyes told him otherwise.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

I've always felt that there had to be a reason why Oscar didn't question the fact that André never married. At least, not canonically. This was my first thought on the subject (though admittedly I shortened it for a drabble). Thanks for reading! Feedback's appreciated of course.


	4. 004: When You Can't Run

**Comme les Étoiles dans le Ciel  
By: Manna

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**

**…_xOx…_**

**004: "When You Can't Run"**

The first time he wanted to leave was…

When was it? Oh, years and years ago, he supposed. He filled a glass with alcohol—not wine, no…he wanted to get drunk. It was the real stuff, the strong stuff.

The kind of alcohol people drank when they wanted to drown more than a sorrow, more than a fear, more than simple pain.

He wanted to leave her so badly that sometimes it hurt. No, wait…it always hurt. But sometimes, when the pain burned deeper, cutting into his heart further than it ever had before, it made him want to run. _Run, run, André_, his mind told him, _before you get hurt_.

_Run, run, André_, his heart mocked, _like the little coward that you are_.

He swallowed his drink and poured another. He struggled not to cry.

Yes, dammit, yes! He was a coward! He was the biggest coward in France because he couldn't say those three little words.

But, his mind told his heart in an eternal battle, those three words said so much more than just "I love you". They said everything, they said…forever. Then she would know how he had ached to be with her from the moment he had laid eyes on her. She would know how much he adored her. She would know that every gesture, every smile, every encouraging word…had been that of more than just a friend.

And she might hate him for it. No…he couldn't take that. He couldn't stand that kind of pain; it would kill him. So he drank, and he stood at a stalemate. How many years had passed like this? Too many.

_You should run from her_, his mind told him, its matter-of-fact tone reminding him of the way that she talked, of her soft blonde curls and her blue eyes.

_Run? _he thought in his drunken state. _Run? I can't run._

_Why can't you run?_ His mind begged him. _Why can't you leave that one thing—that one person—that hurts you so much?_

But his heart knew. Oh, did his heart know!

"It's really quite simple," he murmured under his breath, drawing stares from a few of the others in the bar. "The pain of leaving her would hurt far, far worse than if I stayed."

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

In Episode 28, André thinks something along the lines of… "If I could have run, I would have done so long ago." This drabble is set before The Incident, but it's supposed to help clarify his feelings on the subject. Inspiration was partially the song "_Wounded Heart_" by Bonnie Raitt. Thanks for the feedback so far, guys, and thanks for reading!


	5. 005: Blur

**Comme les Étoiles dans le Ciel  
By: Manna

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**

**…_xOx…_**

**005: Blur **

I'm not drunk.

No… I haven't touched any alcohol at all tonight. Everything outside is so very black; the sky darkens early this time of the year, and I'm not sure I like it. A long time ago, I loved the dark. Sneaking around in the dark, scaring people in the dark…

I guess I thought it was fun. I'll be 33 years old soon. I don't think someone my age is allowed to have fun. But what do I know? In the last few years, I realized that I don't know anything.

Paris is starving. I never would have expected that. André has loved me since we met. I don't know if I saw that coming or not. It's all a blur right now. Thirty-three years are nothing but a blur.

I stumble away from the window. I don't know what's wrong with me, I'm not sure how I feel. I've been terrified a few times in my life, but when that mob attacked André and I last month…

I thought I was going to lose him. I still blame myself. We never talked about it, and I don't know what to say. If I told him I loved him, would he believe me, or would he think that I was saying it out of pity?

"Oscar." I jump, scared at the sudden sound in the dark corridor. It's him.

He smiles a little bit, and I just want to die. That smile, his smile… I… I haven't seen it in what seems like forever.

I wobble a little on my feet.

"You're drunk," he tells me, sounding disappointed.

I don't want to disappoint him, I can't bear to see him look like that. Not after all of the pain he's been through already because of me. "I'm not drunk," I tell him, "I haven't had anything to drink tonight."

"Then what's that?" he asks, and when I look down, there is a bottle in my hands. I don't know how it got there, but it's there, it's real. I can feel the smooth surface against my hand, and I can taste the liquor on my tongue. A part of me wants André to taste it too, but I know he'd never be so bold, not again.

Everything's a blur. I lied to him. I never lie. I _hate_ lying. "I'm sorry," I say, but I know he doesn't know what for.

"You need to sleep," he tells me gently, and I go, feeling ashamed. I'm too tired to argue. He follows, but stops at my door. I knew he would. "Goodnight, Oscar," he says. He looks uncomfortable.

I'm not sure that I'm only 33 years old. Maybe I'm older or younger. My childhood—did I have one?—my adulthood…it's all blurring together. "André," I say suddenly, my foot wedged in the doorway so that he can't shut it properly. "Am I getting old?" It's just drunken babbling, but I need to know.

"Only if you want to be," he says.

* * *

**Author Notes:**

I'm not sure how I feel about this one. For some reason, I like writing about drunk Oscar. Her thoughts are always so confusing and sometimes conflicting. Thanks for reading!


	6. 006: Only Imagine

**Comme les Étoiles dans le Ciel  
By: Manna

* * *

  
**

**…_xOx…_**

**006: Only Imagine**

She doesn't know that I'm in love with her. How could she know? I've never told her. The hints are there, the ones I can't keep hidden. I tell her that I love her whenever I can, but to her, those words come from the mouth of a mere friend. I'll take what I can get, though. Honestly, I'll take anything.

Every now and then, when Oscar is in a really good mood, she'll let me slip in an endearment or two, and she doesn't even flinch.

Those days are the days I look forward to.

Today is one of them.

"_Bonsoir, ma chérie_," I say, and she turns to me and smiles.

"André! Why are you in such a good mood this evening?"

_Oh,_ I want to say, _because you are_. But instead I merely return her smile and hand her a mug full of hot chocolate before taking a seat on the arm of her chair.

"_Merci_," she says quietly.

Yes, these are the days, the times—the _moments_—that I look forward to.

If I close my eyes right now, I can almost imagine that we're a real couple. I know I can't hold her, can't kiss her…but for a an instant, I think that maybe she wouldn't mind if I did.

So I stand again, before I can act on such a silly impulse. "_Bonne nuit_," I tell her softly.

"Leaving so soon?" She looks disappointed.

"I'll stay for a few more minutes," I tell her. Just a few.

But a few minutes turns into a few hours, and I can't pull myself away.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

This idea came randomly while I listened to a song that doesn't even have lyrics. _The Fresh Hills of Cein Mhic Cainte_ is the name of the song, if you were curious. Anyway, nothin' else to say on this one. Thanks for reading! You know I love feedback! (Edit: Thanks for the corrections on the French, Nona!)


	7. 007: Kindling

**Comme les Étoiles dans le Ciel  
By: Manna

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**

**…_xOx…_**

**007: Kindling**

The corridor was dark, and the sound of the general's voice, drowned out by her grandson's declaration of love, was enough to give her tears the freedom to fall that they sought.

Somehow, she had always known about André's love for Oscar. There was no way to avoid it. Of course, when the two had been nothing but children, she had discouraged them from sleeping in the same bed, from bathing together…anything that might prove that Oscar was a girl and not a boy; even though André knew from the beginning that the blonde terror was female, she didn't need her grandson to see the actual evidence of Oscar's femininity.

It did nothing to prevent him from falling for her, though. At nine years old, while peeling potatoes next to his beloved grandmother in the kitchen, he had declared aloud that he would marry his friend of just over a year.

"What?" Marron had been startled to say the least.

"Well," she had answered, "nobody else will marry her because she's not exactly a girl or a boy."

"And where did you hear that?"

His face reddened. "The stablemen, the gardeners…and others." His expression turned serious, "I don't want her to be alone forever."

She had sighed, then. "Don't listen to them." But inside, she understood his concern. Oscar was a woman being raised like a man.

She would never marry.

So she smiled at André and he smiled back. It was just childhood affection, the love of a friend for a friend, maybe even a brother for his sister.

The gun, the sword, they had been cast aside. The general left. André got up from the floor. Her babies were safe again. Marron buried her face in her hands.

How could she have known that his sweet, innocent love—such an infinitesimal spark—would turn into a raging inferno?

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

Kindling is, as you know, the lightweight wood, like tinder, used to start a fire, to keep it going. Hence the title; of course, we're talking about André's love. It started as a spark, and over time, it wasn't a tiny flame that flickered in the wind. No, somehow, it had grown to something much, much larger.

I thought it appropriate to write something from Nanny's point of view, also. She's a fun, sweet character and she doesn't get enough credit. Feedback is appreciated!


	8. 008: I'll Hold On

**Comme les Étoiles dans le Ciel  
By: Manna

* * *

  
**

**…_xOx…_**

**008: I'll Hold On**

Children like to explore and discover; André and Oscar were no exception. The waterfall seemed to go down, down, down, and the rush of the water landing in the lake below was loud and relatively frightening to the two children who watched with wide eyes.

"But this drop is probably a billion feet," ten-year-old Oscar protested weakly, gripping the edge of the tree that had fallen across the water to form a makeshift bridge. "Are you sure that you want to chance it?"

The truth was, Oscar was just as afraid of falling as André was; she only pretended to look strong.

"The enemy's after us and you're hesitating?" he asked, continuing their game of running from the bad guys. He climbed onto the log ahead of her. The young servant was scared, but he knew that if he went ahead and tried to conquer his fear, Oscar would follow suit.

"You're right," she said, scrambling up behind him. "We don't have time to play silly games. Hurry up before they catch us and throw us into a dark dungeon with," she shuddered, "snakes and spiders!"

He laughed and only a minute later reached safety. As he climbed down, though, Oscar slipped from her precarious perch. She managed to catch herself at the last moment, but André could tell from her quick breathing that she was terrified. After regaining her balance, she sat there for a good long minute without moving.

"Oscar?"

She didn't answer, so he climbed back up onto the trunk.

"Give me your hand," he said.

After some hesitation, she held it out for him to take, "You won't let go?"

"No! I'll never let go. Why would I do something like that?"

"I don't know," she said, inching closer to him. "You might turn on me and hand me over to the bad guys."

"I'll die before I betray you," he reassured her, giving her hand a squeeze.

"I'll hold on, then."

…_**xOx…**_

More than twenty years later, Oscar watched the relaxed features of the man sleeping next to her. Her gaze drifted down to their joined hands, and she brought them to her lips to brush a kiss across his knuckles.

She had continued to hold on; he had never let her go.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

This idea came from some lyrics to Terra Naomi's _Say It's Possible:__ "I'll hold on, tell me that you won't let go…"_

This was my favorite one to write so far, I think. Feedback is appreciated!


	9. 009: Concert for One

**Comme les Étoiles dans le Ciel  
By: Manna

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**

**…_xOx…_**

**009: Concert for One**

Her fingers closed around the smooth polished wood of her violin. How long had it been since she played? Far too long. She had been so busy with her duties to the queen that time had become…irrelevant. Time to herself, at any rate. She was tired, always tired, but sleep refused to come to her.

Maybe it was the stress. Sometimes she felt suffocated by the demands put on her. Train the Royal Guard, listen to Marie Antoinette, make sure things are in order, that the paperwork is correct, double-check that the guards aren't ready to fall asleep, head home… And then of course, sleep for a little while only to wake up and start all over again.

It was wearing her thin. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to take a vacation. She didn't want to—she just _knew_ that things would be a mess when she returned—but she needed to relax before she snapped. Oscar François de Jarjayes never lost her cool; if she broke down, it would be a nightmare.

She wanted to sleep, but she knew that it wouldn't be worth even trying. Tossing and turning, nightmares, confusing thoughts and images…

It was late at night, but her parents were out, and the staff was asleep on the other side of the mansion.

The bow felt awkward in her hand; she was probably a little rusty. But when she tucked the instrument under her chin and drew the bow across the strings, it all came flooding back, and before she knew it, she was sitting on the chest at the foot of her bed with only the flickering light of a candle to keep her company.

The warm notes washed over her; she hadn't felt so relaxed in months. Suddenly, a soft knock on her door startled her, and she stopped playing. "Yes?"

André poked his head in and grinned at her. "I heard you playing," he said. "Do you mind if I listen for a while?"

"Of course I don't mind," she answered, gesturing to an overstuffed chair. "Is there anything in particular that you want to hear?"

He tilted his head back as if in thought and then looked right at her. "Keep playing whatever it was that you were playing before I interrupted you."

And she did.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

I don't really have anything to say about this one. I think that if anybody appreciates Oscar's musical fondness, it's André. And why? Because she puts all of her emotions into her music. Maybe that's one of the reasons he knows her so very well. Thanks for reading!


	10. 010: Moonlight Sonata

**Comme les Étoiles dans le Ciel  
By: Manna

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**

**…_xOx…_**

**010: Moonlight Sonata**

She's never danced with anyone like this before. She had worn a dress and danced with Count Fersen, but it had been nothing—_nothing_—like this.

Because then…she had not been herself.

The de Jarjayes mansion is quiet. Everyone is asleep except the two of them, master and servant, commander and soldier… She's not wearing a dress, just an unbuttoned white shirt, but she feels more like a woman than she ever has in her entire life.

Their figures are illuminated by the glow of the crescent moon hanging in the sky; they're hardly moving, and there's no music playing, but they're dancing. His hands aren't resting on her waist; he has her completely enfolded in his arms. Her head is resting on his shoulder; her right hand is on his chest, her left wraps around his back.

She sighs against him, her breath tickling his neck. They're both so tired. She's dying, and he can hardly see anything. But they can see each other, and that's all that matters. They can feel the sounds of the piano as it washes over them, as it flows through the room. They're holding each other up lest the other fall. He feels her tears as they slide down his skin. His land harmlessly in her tousled hair.

No words are uttered. None need to be.

Suddenly, shots ring out, and the heat of the battle returns. There are tears on her face, but it's because he's not there anymore. It takes her a moment to realize that the shots were for her, that she's falling, falling, falling, but she's already on the cobblestone street on her back, and she can't move.

She's carried away, but she still feels like she's falling. And the piano, it starts to play. That song, the same song they had danced to after making love…she doesn't know what it is, what the name of it is, who the composer is…but it doesn't matter. She feels a breath away from being content, from being _complete_.

She closes her eyes and lets his arms enfold her again.

And they dance, her in the bloodied uniform of a French Guard commander and he in his equally ruined clothes. The notes soak through them as they cling to each other and sway to the music only they can hear.

The streets are empty, but they're still dancing long after the moon has risen in the sky.

And no words are uttered. None need to be.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

Inspired by Beethoven's _Moonlight Sonata_, and of course, Zainab88 who wanted to see Oscar and André dance. This is the best drabble I've written yet. At least, I think so, haha. Thanks for reading! Feedback is very much appreciated.

One little side-note: _Moonlight Sonata _wasn't written until 1801 and was rumored to be dedicated to his pupil, 17-year-old Countess Giulietta Guicciardi, whom Beethoven was, or had been, secretly in love with. But who's to say Oscar and André didn't hear it, anyway?


	11. 011: Walls of the Heart

**Comme les Étoiles dans le Ciel  
By: Manna

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**

**…_xOx…_**

**011: Walls of the Heart**

The building felt cold against his back; if it wasn't for the tall, imposing structure, though, he would be lying in the street. It was holding him up as he tried to catch his breath.

Guilt flooded through him, filling every pore, every fiber of his being. What had he done? What in God's name had he done?

He knew. He felt sick to his stomach, but he didn't dare to turn around, didn't dare to peer around the edge of the wall to see the commander standing there with her servant-turned-soldier.

It was no wonder André had looked so angry. No wonder at all.

Alain was a man of action. When Oscar had grabbed his arm…it had been the last straw for him; he had kissed her. But André had known her for much longer, the temptation had been in front of him for years and years. Alain couldn't quite understand how his friend—and rival—could be so patient.

He had never seen his commander scared before. But she had looked terrified as his hands gripped her wrists and pushed her back, back.

Her lips had been warm but stiff, unyielding. She had tried to fight against him. He hadn't really noticed it in the heat of the moment. Maybe, he had thought, kissing her lips, her cheek, her neck would wake her up to him. But it had only scared her more.

She was an amazing woman, but she didn't want to see it.

And he had chosen the wrong way to tell her.

He laughed ruefully and sank to the ground. Why did she have to be so beautiful without even trying? Why was he falling for someone absolutely unattainable? She would never be his. Her walls, the ones that had probably guarded her since her birth, were up. Always up.

Even with the fear in her eyes, those walls had been in place. Nobody was going to get to the one part of her that could be hurt the most.

And he didn't—_couldn't_—blame her for that.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

Not much to say, here. This one was requested by Julitschka. Thanks, dear, for the suggestion! And thanks everyone, for reading.


	12. 012: Memorization

**Comme les Étoiles dans le Ciel  
By: Manna

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**

**…_xOx…_**

**012: Memorization**

_One, two, three, four_ stair-steps to the front door. The knob is right…no, not there. There, there it is! Turn it to the right, and swing open the door, but not too quickly… Ah, perfect.

_Six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve_ steps to the staircase.

_Eighteen _steps up it until the first landing, a sharp right turn and _twenty-one_ more until the second floor. No, ouch! Make that _twenty-two_.

The _third _door on the left is her room, he thinks as he stares at the blur. At least he can tell what it is. He's not having a good day; he hasn't had a good day all week. Maybe if he sees her, things will get better.

_One, two, three_ knocks. He hears her voice tell him to enter.

The first thing he sees is her hair, spilling over her shoulders, catching the sunlight. He blinks, because at first he thinks it's a halo. His eye follows the curve of her back to her waist. She's leaning over something…wait… Oh, it's the piano. Her hands hover over the keys as she watches him.

"What is it, André?" she asks him. "Is something wrong?"

"No," he answers. "Nothing's wrong."

"Oh." She gives something like a shrug and goes back to playing. His presence doesn't seem to bother her, so he takes a seat in one of the chairs where he can watch her play. Oscar always hated to be the center of attention where her music was concerned, but it never embarrassed her to play in front of him. He took some kind of comfort in that fact.

He squints, keeping his left eye closed; when it's open his vision becomes even worse. It's almost like his right eye still thinks his left can see. No matter how hard he tries, though, he can't make out her individual fingers as they dance across the keys.

He worries that one day he'll wake up and he won't be able to see her face. But he can't tell her that. He's afraid if she knew about his vision, she wouldn't have a use for him anymore.

_One, two, three, four, five_ steps to the piano bench. He sits.

No, wait, make that _six _steps…

"André," she laughs, pausing her playing to peer down at him. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he says dryly, pleased that he can see the blue of her eyes from where he is. "I think you moved that bench just as I went to sit down."

"I did no such thing," she replies and sticks her tongue out playfully before reaching a hand down. "Here, I'll help you up. You can sit next to me instead of on the floor."

_One, two, three, four, five, six, seven_ seconds is how long her hand holds his.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

When André memorized the stair steps in the manga, it broke my heart. I had this idea written down for a full-fledged one-shot, but I thought about it at work last week and decided that it would make a much better drabble. Thanks for reading! Feedback is much appreciated!


	13. 013: Daddy's Girl

**Comme les Étoiles dans le Ciel  
By: Manna

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**

**…_xOx…_**

**013: Daddy's Girl**

From that first, piercing wail she had been his favorite.

Parents weren't supposed to pick favorites, but all of them did. They didn't always show it; Monsieur de Jarjayes showed it in every gesture, every word, every_thing_ he did where Oscar was concerned.

Gender had ceased to be a problem. He didn't want to be reminded that Oscar was really a girl and not a boy—if he was, it would make it harder for him to raise her as he intended to. Raising a man required a lot more work than a girl. He didn't care what anybody said. Boys were rambunctious, feisty creatures, and he had been one of the worst, himself. He knew what to expect. He remembered how his father had trained him to be a great general in the French military.

Oscar, he had thought as he watched the child smash a toy soldier with a little toy horse, would be the very best.

Sure enough, she had grown up, and he could admit that he was proud of her. Of Oscar, of his son. He was harsh, of course, but he had to be. If he relaxed too much, she might relax too, and then… she might slip up. That perfect, ambiguous, stone-cold exterior of hers could crack, and if it did, there would be hell to pay. Not only for him, but her for and the rest of his family, too.

He didn't understand her move to the French Guards, but what could he do about it? Talking sense into Oscar wasn't his specialty—it was André's. And he had the feeling that even the André wouldn't be able to change her mind.

André was to keep a close eye on Oscar at all times. And when the French Guard was sent out to Paris, he had been relieved to see André leaving with Oscar. His son—no, she was his daughter—hadn't been looking well for several months. Maybe she was coming down with something, or maybe it was only his imagination. She was his favorite after all. He had a right to be concerned.

Oscar never came back. Neither did André. He didn't know what he might have done if André had returned without her. He supposed he would have been angry that the half-blind servant had lived while his precious child had died. Later, he might have just been thankful that one of them had lived, but…it would have taken time. A long time.

Maybe it was best that they had died together; they had been together for so long it would be strange to see them apart. And to see one without the other… Well, it would hurt.

He looked down at the neatly folded note in his hand. He'd read it so many times he knew he didn't need to do it again. He had it memorized. What did she mean by her words? Had she intended to die? Or had she meant to run away with André and never return?

It was too late to ask her now, but he knew one thing; that letter was his son's—no, his baby girl's—final goodbye. And he wondered, for the briefest of moments, as he remembered that wailing infant he had held in his arms, how things might have turned out differently.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

Is it just me, or is Oscar Monsieur de Jarjayes favorite? Of course she is! Even if he doesn't want to admit it to himself, he dotes on her. He's harsh, but as stated, he had to be or everything would fall apart. The general is a complex character. He seems like such a jerk sometimes, but you know…he had to love Oscar a lot. I could probably write a long, long one-shot about just him. Anyway, feedback please?

(Lifesend, I'm working on your request!)


	14. 014: Like the Rain

**Comme les Étoiles dans le Ciel  
By: Manna

* * *

  
**

**…_xOx…_**

**014: Like the Rain**

She loves the rain. She doesn't particularly like feeling it against her skin, but the sound of it falling is soothing. The gentle _pitter-patter_ of a calm spring rain or the rush of a summer storm calms her nerves, helps her to unwind. The closer she is to it, the better she hears it, though. It's why she always ends up soaking wet.

He notices the way the sound of an approaching thunderstorm makes her head turn toward the window. She sets her violin down and looks outside as lightning illuminates the yard. He stands and joins her; she presses her fingertips against the glass that separates her from a little bit of freedom.

"Do you want to go outside?" His words are soft, gentle, but they seem to almost startle her, breaking her out of her reverie.

She turns to him and gives him a ghost of a smile, "It's late at night, André."

He takes her hand and pulls her toward the door. "So?"

And together they run to the stables; their clothes are waterlogged by the time they get there, but it's worth it. They can hear the torrent of rain as the worst of the storm hits them; it beats against the roof, against the walls.

The entrance to the stables is open just a few inches, but it's enough. He sits down on a bale of straw a few feet from the wide double-doors, and she sits beside him. They both gaze out at the splashes made from the fast-falling drops as they rush headlong into the ground.

She sighs quietly, almost under her breath, and leans against him, pillowing her head on his shoulder.

And for a few minutes, it's only the two of them; the rest of the world ceases to exist.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

You have to love the rain. Too bad we're getting snow this time of year. The title comes from the song "Like the Rain", by Clint Black. The lines I was thinking of were as follows: _Like the rain, I have fallen for you, I'm falling for you now_.

Thanks for reading! Feedback is much appreciated!


	15. 015: Goodbye To You

**Comme les Étoiles dans le Ciel  
By: Manna

* * *

  
**

**…_xOx…_**

**015: Goodbye To You**

He's a good man but she's through with loving him. She can't take the constant struggle, the heartache, the pain. Not anymore; it's been going on for far too long. It's time to end such silly, childish thoughts.

That's what she tells herself, but she knows it'll be a lot more difficult than just that.

Without a sound, she picks up the pieces of her broken heart. Now is the time to move on, to push forward, to look ahead. She stands and takes the shards of glass with her; just one tilt of her hands and everything is done. The mess is cleaned up; the sharp shards have been disposed of.

"Oscar, you're bleeding." The quiet voice of her closest friend makes her turn her head. He doesn't say anything about how she had sent him away when he had offered to help her clean up, but she can remember a time when he would have been sure to say something just as an _I told you so_. He really has grown up.

She blinks and looks down to see a thin line of blood weaving a trail across the skin of her hand. She goes to wipe the liquid off on her breeches, but before she can do so, his hand captures hers and he's wrapping his handkerchief around it. The white material soaks up the red color; it makes such a sharp contrast, she thinks.

"There. All better now." He pats the neatly tied makeshift bandage and she manages to give him a wobbly smile in return.

"Thank you," she says, and finds that she can't look him in the eye any longer. Instead, she looks down at her hand, covered with his handkerchief.

A part of her wants to ask him to kiss it to make it better, but she knows it's far too childish, even if she were only teasing him. He's already done enough. She doesn't even feel the pain anymore.

If only her heart could be fixed so easily.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

This takes place in the anime when Oscar is cleaning up the broken glass. _Goodbye To You_ is a song by Scandal. Oscar says goodbye to Fersen and tries to pick up and move on. Thanks for reading! Feedback is appreciated!

(Also, Loulou, your birthday 'fic will be a bit late. I apologize.)


	16. 016: A Tough Decision

**Comme les Étoiles dans le Ciel  
By: Manna

* * *

  
**

**…_xOx…_**

**016: A Tough Decision**

Oh, dear God!

He looked away, a light blush staining his cheeks. Should he tell her about his latest discovery, or maybe she'd notice it on her own and then he would be spared the embarrassment of having to tell her himself.

He couldn't help but look again. It was just… Maybe it was too tempting. No, he could look away! But within a moment his eyes were riveted on his childhood friend again. His gaze, as horrible as it was, wasn't aimed at her face. He blinked and tried to make up his mind; should he tell Oscar, or not tell Oscar?

It was a very difficult decision, even if it didn't sound like one. A good friend would tell her, a bad friend would…well, he wasn't sure. But really, The color of her bare skin that showed through the rather large hole in her pants was distracting, and maybe it would be best if she knew that.

But… Euh, he was a little afraid. He had every right to be, too! He didn't want to be accused of being a sick-minded freak but he couldn't stop looking at it. If she'd stop moving around so much, if she'd just sit down, maybe he wouldn't keep seeing it.

Every time she stepped forward, he could see it as plain as day. Maybe… Maybe it would be worth the risk of being accused of looking just so the temptation wasn't there anymore.

He tugged on the end of his ponytail a little bit and took longer strides to catch up to her. "Hey, uh, Oscar!"

"Hm? What is it?" She really had no idea if her innocent, clueless expression told him anything.

_Act natural_, he told himself. "You have a hole in the seat of your pants."

"Euh?!"

Even if she did try to kick him for looking at her derrière in a few minutes, he determined that just seeing her spin around to try and see the damages before blushing as red as a rose had already made it worthwhile.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

Eh, I was a little sleepy when I wrote this, so forgive my quality on this one… I like writing them as younger sometimes… Here, they're probably between 16 and 22. Thanks for reading!


	17. 017: The Letter

**Comme les Étoiles dans le Ciel  
By: Manna

* * *

  
**

**…_xOx…_**

**017: The Letter**

They found it in the pocket of his uniform. It was tucked away safely, slightly crumpled but no more worse for wear than the soles of his boots. His body was as cold as ice; there was no doubt in their minds that he was dead. Maybe it was better that way—the scar on his face told them that he had been blinded in one eye.

It was folded neatly into thirds and on the front there was a name: _Colonel Oscar François_.

They patted his shoulder slightly, mostly out of pity. "Sorry fella," they said. "The colonel's dead, too."

But they packed up his body and shipped it to his home. How strange, they thought, that he lived in the same house as the Colonel de Jarjayes. A day later, they remembered the folded paper and made a special trip to deliver it. "This was for your son, General." The note found its way to the imposing man's hand.

"Son?" he answered. "I have no son… Only daughters. Six daughters."

And with that, the door closed.

The general retired to his study, the letter clutched in his hand.

After an hour of staring at his daughter's name, he managed to open it. The handwriting was large and neat, scrawled across the paper in a line that slowly fell down the page instead of going straight across.

_Oscar,_

_Do you remember when we played 'war' as children? At the time, we never thought that we would be involved in one, ourselves; it's too bad that things had to come to this. If you're reading this, I'm already gone, but I want you to know that I'll never leave your side. Death can try to separate us but ultimately it will be unsuccessful. Watching over you has been my greatest joy, and I will continue to do so until you and I are reunited again, whether it takes an hour or an eternity. Remember, ma chérie, I love you forever._

_-André Grandier_

The man sighed and folded the note back up, placing it carefully under a stack of papers in his desk. Without a word before he stood, his shoulders back. He smiled slightly and closed the drawer.

With little effort, he straightened his black clothes and headed for the door. It was a good thing that he had decided to bury André and Oscar side-by-side. He glanced back at the desk one last time before closing the heavy oak door of his study behind him.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes: **

Based off of Tim McGraw's _If You're Reading This_, but of course, Oscar never gets the chance to read the note and André only had to watch over her for less than twenty-four hours before she joined him. Thanks for reading! Feedback is appreciated!


	18. 018: Footprints

**Comme les Étoiles dans le Ciel  
By: Manna

* * *

  
**

**…_xOx…_**

**018: Footprints**

_He who walks in another's tracks leaves no footprints.  
-Joan Brannon_

It's always about Oscar. When the two of them walk into a room, she's the first thing they seem to notice. Maybe it's her blonde hair, her flashing eyes, or just her personality. She's like the North Star that stands out among the others in the sky.

Most people don't notice him.

He stands there alone, just behind her, and he remains invisible. When people think about her, they don't think of him. He's the calm, quiet, keeps-to-himself type. She's the loud, cold, down-to-business type. She far outshines him.

But that's okay.

They walk through Versailles, and he's always half a step behind her. It's only right, he tells himself. People will talk if he dares to stand right next to her. But people will talk anyway, because Colonel Oscar François de Jarjayes brings a servant with her to court.

That's okay too, because he doesn't dress like one.

He talks like a servant. He walks like a servant. He acts like a servant. But he doesn't dress like one, and deep down inside, he might as well not be one. But here in Versailles, it's like he's only stepping in the prints that Oscar's boots leave in the dirt.

Years later, when they die, they'll remember Oscar—tall and elegant and amazing. But André, the man in the shadows, will be forever forgotten.

He looks next to him at her peaceful expression and finds a smile working its way across his face. When they're alone, he walks by her side, right next to her. They stand as equals.

"I'll race you to the stables, Oscar!"

"Damn it André! I'm going to win this time!"

"You're going to lose this time! On your mark… Ready…? Set… Go!"

And when he looks behind him in the dirt, he sees two sets of footprints.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

The quote is a neat one I found. Anyway, when you leave no footprints, no mark in the dirt, you leave no trace of yourself, and you will therefore be forgotten like so many others. Luckily, I'm sure André and Oscar both left impressions on not only the nobles of Versailles, but the commoners of France—especially Alain.

Thanks for reading! Feedback is appreciated!


	19. 019: How Things Should Be

**Comme les Étoiles dans le Ciel  
By: Manna

* * *

  
**

**…_xOx…_**

**019: How Things Should Be**

He doesn't even know what's going on until he's seated at the table in the corner of the kitchen—the one reserved for the servants—and his grandmother tells him to forget about Oscar.

"Forget about Oscar? What are you talking about, Granny? Have you hit your head?"

His first reaction makes perfect sense, but she's not about to give up, "You're 24 years old, André, well past marrying age!"

"What does that have to do with anything?" He knows where this conversation is headed and he doesn't like it one bit. First of all, Oscar's still asleep, and second, she'll be late to Versailles if he doesn't prepare the horses pretty soon.

"I know how you feel. I was young once, too, you know." She sighs and rests her chin in her hands. "I'm not so old that I don't know what it is you feel whenever you look at her."

"At who?" He plays stupid.

"At our little Oscar."

He nods, distracted, "Look, Granny, I really have to—"

"I'm serious, André. You need to leave Oscar alone and find your own…way of life. Your own path. Stop hoping for a miracle. You don't need anybody's permission to love someone, but it's an empty existence when you spend your whole life never getting anything in return."

"What are you getting at?" He's starting to get annoyed.

"Find yourself a nice girl. Get married. Settle down. Have children."

He stands. "Oscar needs me to prepare the horses." Then, with a look over his shoulder as he stands at the door, "I could love someone else, Granny, but in the end, I would always love _her_ more. _She_ would always come first."

His grandmother falls silent.

"And why should there be two people who live empty existences, loving and loving and getting nothing in return?" He's made his point. The old woman nods as he slips out the door.

He wasn't entirely truthful. He gets something in return, even though it's not what would make a normal man happy. He gets her companionship, her confidence, her secrets, her smile, and most importantly, her trust.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

This was for Xirysa. This is what you get for giving me ideas. I'm still working on 'fics for Lifesend and Loulou. Sorry it's taking me so long. I'm at a loss as to how to continue at the moment… Thanks for reading! Feedback is appreciated.


	20. 020: Empathy

**Comme les Étoiles dans le Ciel  
By: Manna

* * *

  
**

**…_xOx…_**

**020: Empathy**

Weak. She felt weak. She hadn't even been able to move. Never before had she been so completely overpowered and left so vulnerable. It was terrifying. She almost didn't remember yelling for André—or did she yell at all?—but he came. He would take care of what she could not; she had complete faith in him.

Her friend ran off, but the next thing she knew, he was back.

"Oscar!" his words tumbled from his mouth so fast she wasn't quite sure what he was trying to say at first. "We have to get out of here! Come on!"

The urgency in his voice told her everything that she needed to know. She tried to stand, but found that she couldn't. Her legs were like lead; she was still trying to breathe, trying to fill her starving lungs with the oxygen they so desperately needed.

"I can't—" She wasn't able to finish her sentence; he was already crouched down in front of her.

"Grab on! Hurry!" The panic in his voice seemed to give her enough strength to loosely clasp her fingers around his neck.

Within a moment, he tilted forward, letting her fall against him fully before he grasped her legs and straightened up again. "Just hold on," he said, and then he took off down the empty corridor, his boots pounding against the stone floor.

Something smelled faintly like gunpowder, and suddenly, her eardrums exploded and the world shook. She landed in the grass on her back; right in front of her, the monastery was in flames.

André lifted himself onto his elbows and turned slightly to watch what she was already seeing. He turned concerned eyes toward her, "Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine." Her fingertips brushed lightly over the newly forming bruises on her neck. "You?"

"I'm fine." Embarrassed, he rolled off of her. "Nicolas and Jeanne de la Motte wanted to die together."

She nodded, knowing but not understanding. "Why?"

He sighed. "I don't know, Oscar. Maybe they were in love. Maybe they would rather die together than be alone."

She didn't question it, but she noticed something in his voice that she couldn't quite place. She thought that maybe it was empathy.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

This takes place in the anime, where Jeanne and Nicolas die together by blowing up the monastery. Empathy and sympathy are two different words. Anybody can sympathize with someone, but not everyone can empathize with them, because to feel sympathy is to know, but to feel empathy is to not only _feel_ and _know_, but to _understand_. André understands what it's like to rather die with the one you love rather than be faced with a lifetime alone…or at least, he's coming to that conclusion slowly.

Feedback is appreciated!


	21. 021: An Understanding Heart

**Comme les Étoiles dans le Ciel  
By: Manna

* * *

  
**

**…_xOx…_**

**021: An Understanding Heart**

On occasion, he still wakes up in the middle of the night feeling pain that he hasn't physically felt in several years. It feels so real that he's grasping at his eyes, his hands pressing against the left side of his face as if something precious will fall away the moment he removes them.

The scar healed a long time ago, but everything feels so _real_. It's like it's happening all over again. He doesn't really remember much from the actual incident; a sharp stinging is all. And then the blood that came, the warm red liquid had stopped his heart almost completely. Something terrible was wrong. A person's eyes sting when they look at the sun, when they get something in them…but they don't bleed.

The more he thought about it, the more it hurt, and the more panicked he felt. Something was wrong, something serious was wrong!

He didn't dare to open his eye, and even now, as he sits up in bed, his hands almost able to feel blood oozing between his fingers, he keeps it closed. He's not sure why. The pain isn't real even though he's feeling it, and he can't see out of his eye anyway.

He closes his other eye and falls back against his pillows, forcing himself to remove his hands from his face. There's nothing wrong, nothing wrong… Eventually, the pain starts to ebb away, and he falls into a restless slumber.

Several doors and steps and maybe a staircase away, Oscar wakes up to terrible pain. It hurts so much that it's almost overwhelming. She's not sure what she dreamt of, or why she's awake; all that she can think about is the pain, about how it's overwhelming her completely.

Automatically her hands move to cover the source of her discomfort—the intense, stinging pressure that doesn't seem to want to leave her to her entitled sleep—but her hands don't move toward her face… Instead, they cover her heart.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

I got this idea while at work. Even though Oscar doesn't quite understand, her heart knows. I knew someone who, on the other side of the world, woke up at the exact time her daughter got into a head-on collision with a semi-truck. That's the kind of understanding, the kind of _knowledge_, that only a heart can have.

Thoughts and feedback are appreciated of course. I seem to be having some bad dental issues right now, and I can't get the biggest one taken care of until next Thursday, so if I disappear for a day or two, that is why. Thanks for reading.


	22. 022: Guardian Angel

**Comme les Étoiles dans le Ciel  
By: Manna

* * *

  
**

**…_xOx…_**

**022: Guardian Angel**

Aside from the beginning of a new year, there was nothing good about the month of January. All 31 days were full of cold weather. It didn't always snow, but the temperature dipped below freezing enough times that it drove Oscar absolutely insane.

The best that one could do was to burrow under the covers and stay there as long as possible. Versailles wasn't quite as popular when the weather was cold; who wanted to stand around only to freeze to death?

Oscar dug down a little deeper and buried herself under every last blanket in her room. The fire was lit in the hearth, but it wasn't doing much to heat her large room.

After lying there for twenty minutes trying to warm up without success, she sighed and rolled out of bed, taking all of her blankets with her. It would be warmer—and therefore more comfortable—on the floor in front of the fireplace.

With a contented sigh, she curled up in her "nest" and within a few minutes, fell asleep.

Hours later, she awoke to a loud _thump_ next to her. Blinking sleepily, she looked up to see André half leaning over her. "André," she murmured, and reached out to touch his arm. "What is it?"

He patted her head gently and grinned. "Nothing, Oscar," he said. "Go back to sleep. I'm only adding wood to your fire before it dies out."

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

I wrote this just before 6:30am. Yeah, my work shift starts at 6:30, and I finished just a few minutes beforehand. It's a little corny, but I'm sure that André was looking out for Oscar, even in the smallest of ways! Thanks for reading!


	23. 023: A Right Turned Wrong

**Comme les Étoiles dans le Ciel  
By: Manna

* * *

  
**

**…_xOx…_**

**023: A Right Turned Wrong**

No, no! The sound of footfalls against the hard marble of the staircase could be heard. He hardly realized that it was himself he heard, that the misplaced footsteps, the stumbling, the heavy breathing…it was all his own and not some other poor, unfortunate soul's.

It was just... That it had ended up like it had…was wrong. It had been like watching another man in his place. André Grandier never let his temper or his emotions—especially one as petty as jealousy—get the better of him.

He was ashamed of his actions, of his jealousy of Fersen, of himself. He only wanted her to see him, to notice him. Why did the Swedish count bring out Oscar's sorrow? It made him wonder if she would act that way if he suddenly disappeared from her life, and he had been gripped with the sudden urge to inform her—in his own way—that she didn't have to look so far for love; it had always been right in front of her. It always would be.

A part of him had known that what he was doing was wrong, that it would only scare her away from him. At the time, he hadn't thought of the consequences. He had been thinking only of her, of how much he loved her, and how he had been desperate to let her know of it.

And then, after he had walked away, his vision faltered. Everything had gone dark. It was a cruel reminder that he was losing something precious to him… Perhaps even more than one thing.

But even after everything, she had called out to him. She was worried about him.

About him.

_Him_.

She was too good for him, but even as angry with himself as he was, he realized that it only made him love her more.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

I started this yesterday and forgot where I was going with it. Apologies if it doesn't make much sense. Basically it's after the manga's "Incident", where Oscar immediately sits up in bed and asks André if he's all right when his vision fails on him. I could see her concern for him, even after what had happened, making him love her more.

Thanks for reading!


	24. 024: A Bit of Confusion

**Comme les Étoiles dans le Ciel  
By: Manna

* * *

  
**

**…_xOx…_**

**024: A Bit of Confusion**

His dark hair falls into his face, over his back; it's loose, unbound, and Oscar rarely sees it like that. She thinks for a moment that maybe he looks better with long hair than she does.

Her finger presses into his blankets where she thinks his side is. "Hey, André." There is no reply, so she tries again, this time poking harder and speaking with more insistence. "Wake up, André!"

The 12-year-old girl sighs with annoyance when her only (and best, by default) friend pulls his blankets up and over his head, covering his hair She pokes him again—"Hey!"—and again—"Hey!"—but she receives no response. "Stupid 13-year-olds," she mutters, jumping into the air a little when she sees him peering at her from over the very edge of his blankets. Honestly, when had he pulled them down?

"What was that about 13-year-olds, Oscar?" he asks innocently.

"Nothing," she replies. "Now get out of bed. We have places to go, people to see…"

"We don't have any people to see."

"Shut up." She crinkles her nose at him and pokes him again.

He blinks at her. "Oscar, why are you poking me there?"

"Your side?"

"…That isn't my side." He laughs at the expression on her face and while she's still slightly in shock (and consequently frozen to the spot) he wraps his blanketed arms around her and tackles her to the ground.

She's so preoccupied that she doesn't really seem to mind. "You were just kidding."

"About what?" he asks as she wriggles out from under him and gives him a hard stare.

"About what you said."

He grins. "I'll never tell!"

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

Well, was he kidding? We'll never know… Thanks for reading! And all my drabbles won't be about _RoV_ from now on. I mean, all of the ones I post in this section/story will be for _RoV, _of course, but all 365 won't be. It's too much work, and too hard to always find inspiration.


	25. 025: Not a Day Goes By

**Comme les Étoiles dans le Ciel  
By: Manna

* * *

  
**

**…_xOx…_**

**025: Not a Day Goes By**

It's pretty funny, isn't it, that life can be so beautiful while being cruel at the same time. Or maybe life isn't really what's cruel—perhaps it is just we, as humans, that make it that way for ourselves and for others.

_Funny_ isn't really the right word to use to explain it, though. Sometimes it's bitter irony, the kind where they say, "until death do us part" at a wedding, and the very next day, the bride or groom dies suddenly, unexpectedly.

That hits a little too close to home; André confessed to me, but I wasn't ready. The _funny_ part is that down the road, I realized I loved him too. I wasn't blessed with the kind of courage he was, though. When I was finally able to say something, it almost seemed to good to be true. He still loved me, and for one night, we spent our eternity. Now, _'til death_ holds true. It came much too fast.

We never see it coming, but it came to us. Death took André away from me just as soon as I—or rather, _we_—were ready to spend the rest of our lives together.

I let go of his hand and touch his face, running my fingertips over his eyes one last time. I can feel the scar above and below his left eye without too much guilt filling me; I know he can see again, now.

I leave the church, I leave his body. But my mind stays on him, and I know that not a day will go by that I won't think of him.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

Little does she know she'll see him in less than a day. Anyway, the title is taken from the song of the same name by Lonestar. Thanks for reading. Feedback is much appreciated.


	26. 026: Gas Station Romance

**Comme les Étoiles dans le Ciel  
By: Manna

* * *

  
**

**…_xOx…_**

**026: Gas Station Romance**

I fill my days working at a gas station to earn some much-needed money. Because without money, you're doomed. I've gotta say, though… There's something strangely fulfilling about working with the public. You wouldn't believe how many different people you meet.

For example, André. I first met him on a hot summer day. I didn't know his name then, but he walked into the gas station and pointed out the window at a blue Silverado.

"Hey," he said. "Do you see that beautiful woman out there pumping gas?"

"How could I miss her?" My response might have been pathetic, but it got a smile out of the young stranger in front of me.

He grinned. "Exactly!" And then he handed me a twenty-dollar bill. "I'm André, I'm paying for her gasoline, and do me a favor."

"What is it?" I asked as I took the money.

"Don't tell her it was me." And with that, he was gone.

That was the first time that I had ever seen anything like that. But it would not be the last.

The woman's expression was priceless when she came in to pay for her gasoline. She really was beautiful, more so in jeans and a t-shirt than anything else she might have thought to wear.

"Twenty in the blue truck," she said, holding out a twenty-dollar bill.

"That'd be pump number four," I answered, waving her hand away.

She didn't move. "They're unmarked."

"I know. And put your money away; your gas has already been paid for."

"Oh?" She tucked the twenty back into her pocket and pushed her bangs off of her forehead, allowing a small smile to creep onto her face.

_What a woman_, I thought.

It wasn't the last time that I saw André and the blonde woman. At least once a week, she would pull in to pump her gas, and he would show up just long enough to pay for it. I figured that maybe they were relatively new to the general area since I had never seen them before that fateful day.

One afternoon, the woman walked in wearing jeans and a jacket, but I noticed an id tag around her neck. It was definitely hers—it had her picture on it—but my mouth fell open when I read the name, "Oscar?"

"Eh?" She glanced down and tucked her id back into her jacket.

"Your name is Oscar?" I could hardly believe it. "But you're a girl!"

The look on her face said that she had heard that a million times. "My father really wanted a son." She began to dig for some cash but I had to stop her.

"Don't bother," I said. "Someone already paid for it."

She had a smile on her face as she left, shaking her head slightly.

You know, most women would like for a man to pay for dinner, maybe a beer… Who would have thought that you might be able to win a woman over by paying for her gasoline? I just hoped—for André's sake—that his strategy would work.

Months passed and I still saw André and Oscar every week. One day in the middle of winter, our town was hit with a big snowstorm. The main roads were lucky to have seen a plow all day, and I figured the soap opera characters in my life would stay in their respective homes rather than venture outside, but as I okay'd the gas pumps, I noticed Oscar and her Silverado; she was pumping her gas as usual.

What was not usual was that André was prying her hand off of the pump as he ushered her back into her truck.

"Way to go!" I said when he came in to pay. "You finally made a move. Did you tell her that it was you paying for her gasoline all this time?"

"Huh?" he asked, but then his expression grew understanding. "Oh, she knew all along." He grinned and laid a twenty on the counter.

It was my turn to be confused. "But…"

His smile widened as he lifted up his left hand, "Didn't you know? Oscar's my wife."

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

Inspired by a true story. This one's a little long, and it's AU. I was torn between whether or not I should include AU oneshots in this collection or not, so when I got the idea for this yesterday, I wrestled with it. Since it came out under 1000 words long, I decided to go ahead and include it. I might make this into an original short story sometime soon. Feedback's appreciated as always!

I almost forgot... Whose point of view is this from? I wrote it with Alain in mind, but I suppose it could be just about anyone!


	27. 027: Love Is Blind

**Comme les Étoiles dans le Ciel  
By: Manna

* * *

  
**

…_**xOx…**_

**027: Love Is Blind**

She's obstinate, pushy, hard-headed, and so set in her ways that it drives him insane. She never listens when he talks, but she wants him to hear everything she says as if it's the most important thing in the world. She worries more about her own problems than anything else, and sometimes she completely misses the point.

The point? Of what? Of life? Of merely existing?

Nah, she just misses the point. Any point. Of any situation, subject, _anything_. She has trouble seeing the truth. She should worry about her health a little more, and about her country a little less.

She should be in bed by ten, she should eat breakfast every day, and she should rest when she doesn't feel well. But she never does anything she should do.

She does what she wants.

But he's still there. He's always been there, and he knows he always will be. Whoever said that love was blind was nothing but an idiot. He thinks they deserve kicked in the shin, maybe hung out to dry like an animal skin.

Love isn't blind at all.

He loves her more than himself, more than anything in the world, but he still sees her faults.

So love's not blind at all.

Love is powerful enough that you can see those faults and still turn a blind eye toward them.

You still _want_ to turn a blind eye toward them.

Petty faults won't get in the way.

Because love always wins.

Love conquers all.

Love never fails.

So, he thinks as he gently shakes Oscar awake so that she can get changed for bed, why be blind when you can choose to see?

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

These are my personal feelings on love, and I can't help but feel that André must have felt the same way to love Oscar like he did. He wasn't blind to her faults so much as he chose to accept her for who and what she was, regardless of them.


	28. 028: Another World

**Comme les Étoiles dans le Ciel  
By: Manna

* * *

  
**

**…_xOx…_**

**028: Another World**

She lies next to him, pressed against him, mostly for warmth. Why is everything so cold? He caresses the smooth skin of her back; she can feel his calloused fingers, and it gives her a sense of peace that she's never felt before… It's one she's been looking for, though. She wonders how it managed to elude her for so long.

"André," she whispers, hating to destroy the beautiful silence. "What if things had been different?"

"Different? What do you mean?" He stares blankly at the sky, but his fingers twist around her hair, playing with it.

"What if I had realized much sooner that—"

His lips press against hers, effectively silencing her. "Maybe somewhere out there," he whispers, "there's a world where I said something sooner, when I first wanted to."

"When was that?" She's curious, she can't help it.

His voice turns melancholy. "A long time ago," he finally says, his hands tracing the curve of her cheek. "I would have run away with you the day you decided to wear the uniform… Maybe even sooner."

"I'm sorry…"

"We're together now," he tells her calmly. "There isn't anything to be sorry for."

She moves closer. "Can we be married in a church?"

"You don't think God approves of the forest?" He's teasing and she knows it.

"It's not that," she said. "I just… What if…"

"What is it?" He's concerned suddenly, and holds her cold hand in his larger, warmer one.

"I want to die your wife, André." Before he can interrupt her, she continues, "But I want more people to know it than the two of us."

"Do you think you'll die tomorrow?"

She kisses him softly. "There is always that chance."

He smiles, "Just let me go first; I've waited too long to stay here alone, now."

"Hey," she murmurs, nudging his stomach with a fingertip. "I thought it was ladies first!"

He chuckles and pokes her back lightly. "You're no lady."

"Maybe somewhere out there, there's a world where I was raised as one."

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

_Another World_ is a theme from a video game—_Chrono Cross_ to be exact—and haven't you ever wondered if there is another timeline/world out there where your life is completely different? If you had taken the left fork in the road instead of the right? I know I have. Feedback's much appreciated!


End file.
